His Best Source of Comfort
by SybilltheSeer
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry is feeling miserable. Ginny Weasley is his best source of comfort. Harry/Ginny


**His Best Source of Comfort**

 **A/N: Hello again! I'm back…with a Hinny fanfic! It's super angsty and fluffy (but really cute), and no, this time the angst has nothing to do with the Dursleys. Just a bit of context information: this is the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. I imagine Harry went to bed and had the best 12 hours of sleep he'd had in a LONG time, but then woke up and was crushed by the reality of everything that had just happened. During the time Harry was asleep, Ron and Hermione told Ginny everything about the horcruxes, what Harry told them about why he sacrificed himself (spoiler alert: because he was a horcrux), the Deathly Hallows, etc. So it's assumed that because of that, Ginny knows what Harry's talking about when he mentions finding the horcruxes. Harry either just doesn't remember that she doesn't know, or he assumes that Ron and Hermione probably told her (which, like I said before, they did). Also, I stole a few lines from the book to remind readers of different sections from the series I was thinking about when I was writing, for example, "heart twanging like a gigantic elastic band" from book 1 (pg. 34), and "or perhaps several sunlit days" from book 6 (pg. 533). I promise I wasn't just being unoriginal. Oh! One more thing. I got the idea for the lightning scar on Harry's chest from a great fan art by Burdge Bug that I found. I really liked the idea, so I used it. Credit to them. Anyway, I'll stop now before I spoil the whole thing…please enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I do not own.**

Empty. That's how Harry felt as he sat in the Gryffindor common room, staring blankly into the cold, dark fireplace. It's over. It's over. It's over. The words repeated themselves over and over in his head, as if trying to tell him that he must feel something. Something other than emptiness. Other than pain.

Everything hurt. His head, his back, his arms, his legs. But mostly his chest. Searing pain shot across his chest every time he moved, every time he even thought about the wound that now lay directly over his heart – the wound that, once scarred over, would match the famous scar on his forehead. But the wound near his heart went deeper than skin. It seemed to pierce his very soul, burning and blistering every time the faces of the dead forced their way into his mind. Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Colin…. everything hurt.

And it was all his fault.

His fault.

 _My fault._

A tear forced its way between his eyelids, now squeezed tight shut, but was wiped away quickly before it could make its way down Harry's cold cheek. He couldn't break. Not now. Not after he'd made it this far. There were others in more pain than he was, others who had lost more, and he was here, wallowing in his own meager misery. He had to move. He had to help them. He must stay strong. _I have to help them._ Swallowing his grief, Harry made to stand up, but startled when he felt someone sit down next to him. Eyes flying open, Harry's hand shot instinctively for his wand, only to realize that it was Ginny who had joined him. Heart still pounding, he released the grip on his wand and looked at her. Ginny smiled sadly at his jumpiness, but her smile soon faded. She looked at him for a moment, and Harry couldn't help but think how beautiful she was, even when tear-streaked dust and grime covered her freckled face, and her hair was tangled and lank. Without a word, Ginny rested her head on his shoulder.

They sat there for a while, not speaking. Harry could think of nothing to say. But somehow the mere presence of Ginny was enough to numb a small part of the pain he was feeling. After what felt like an eternity, Ginny finally spoke.

"I know what you're thinking, and it's not your fault," she whispered. Harry said nothing. It surprised him sometimes how well Ginny could read him. "You can't just sit here and blame yourself for nothing. It's just making me feel worse."

Finally, Harry spoke. "I'm not blaming myself for nothing. It _is_ my fault. They all died… _he_ died… and I could have prevented it. If I had just found the horcruxes faster…if I'd gone to the forest sooner…" His voice cracked, and he couldn't go on.

Ginny lifted her head off his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes, and Harry recognized the fierce, blazing look he knew and loved so well.

"Let me say it differently," she said firmly. "DON'T sit here and blame yourself. I won't let you. Everything you're telling yourself is a lie, and you WON'T sit here and beat yourself up like this. He's dead. Voldemort's dead, and it's thanks to you that he is. Yes, yes, I know you had help," Ginny said, cutting him off as he began to protest, "but you can't deny that most of it was done on your own. For heaven's sake Harry, if you hadn't have made the choice to sacrifice yourself, Voldemort could never have died!" Ginny paused for a moment, bracing herself, before continuing. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, and Harry could hear it shaking slightly. "And you can't blame yourself for…for Fred. He knew what the risk of fighting was. He knew what he was getting into. And there was nothing you could have done to save him. Nothing you could have done to prevent him from fighting in the first place."

"But…but maybe if I had found them faster, if I'd finished him off sooner, maybe he would've –"

"No. NO. Harry, you did the best you could. You're only human. You did everything in your power to find them as fast as you could, and that's all there is to it. You can't think like this. You can't. Just remember that if Voldemort were still alive, more people would be dying. More people would be dead. But they're not, because you stopped it. You did something incredible that helped so many people and saved so many lives. He can't hurt anyone, ever again."

Ginny's last words rang in his head. "He can't hurt anyone ever again." Well, it was true, wasn't it? He was gone. They were safe. He, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and the remaining Weasleys…Voldemort couldn't hurt them ever again. He had gotten so used to being hunted, that it hadn't quite hit him, he hadn't quite realized the freedom he had now. The words from earlier came back to him: It was over. It was truly over. Some of the weight Harry had been carrying lifted slightly, and he felt a little better. Ginny always knew how to comfort him.

Ginny spoke again. "And in case you were still wondering…no, I don't blame you for Fred. I'm not mad at you at all. In fact, I've never loved you more."

Ginny was looking at him again, and Harry looked back at her, sinking into her soft brown eyes, his heart now twanging like a gigantic elastic band. If he was being honest with himself, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had said those words to him – had told him that they loved him – and somehow it made the emptiness that had been drowning him almost disappear. He moved closer to Ginny, and the next moment she was kissing him like she had truly never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back. It was even better than when she had kissed him on his 17th birthday, better than all those moments during stolen hours on the Hogwarts grounds. Better, because Ginny wanted him back, Ginny loved him, Ginny didn't blame him for anything; better because now Harry knew just how much he wanted _her_ back, how much he loved _her_ , how much _needed_ her.

After what could have been a few moments, or perhaps several sunlit days, they broke apart. Ginny leaned into his shoulder again, Harry now resting his head against hers. He knew that healing would take time – for him, for Ginny, for everyone – but with Ginny beside him, suddenly it didn't seem so impossible anymore. Things _would_ get better, eventually. And there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Ginny would be by his side every step of the way.


End file.
